


At the Height of Luxury (Take Me Higher and Higher)

by Trixree



Category: One Piece
Genre: Bisexual Vinsmoke Sanji, Brothels, First Time, Gay Roronoa Zoro, Gender Fluid Character, Getting Together, M/M, Possesiveness, Protective Roronoa Zoro, Public Sex, Recreational Drug Use, minor original characters, positively steeped in sexual tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-22 15:48:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22151821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trixree/pseuds/Trixree
Summary: They’d arrived at the island of Mae to catch the end of a brutal, bloody conflict between the island natives and a band of thugs from further inland. After helpfully settling the conflict, the townspeople of Mae offer to throw the Strawhats an island-wide party complete with food, dancing, music and free credit at the best brothel their town has to offer.Wherein Sanji smokes a questionable substance prepared by a local devil-fruit user and gets a little bit hornier (and a little bit looser with his inhibitions) than he ever intended to be around a certain swordsman.
Relationships: Roronoa Zoro/Vinsmoke Sanji
Comments: 59
Kudos: 638





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I promise I'm gonna finish the other unfinished shit I have, but this little plot-bunny has been festering in me for days. A couple nights ago I had the random thought "lol, what if Sanji smoked weed tho" and I'm not proud of the fact that this was born. 
> 
> In this fic, all parties are fully capable of giving free and informed consent. If any part of this is triggering in any way, feel free to let me know and I'll add more detailed warnings!

They’d arrived at the island of Mae to catch the tail end of a brutal, bloody conflict between the island natives and a band of thugs from further inland.

When it became obvious to each and every member of the crew that the islanders were being unfairly antagonized, Luffy had seen it fit to step in on their behalf and bring a decisive end to the fighting. 

Later, Luffy would claim to have barely understood the politics of the islanders’ struggle against their oppressors. He would describe his reasons for intervening simply as, “they made that nice dock-hand that took such good care of the Sunny  _ cry”.  _ And, well. That had settled that. 

“We’d be delighted to honor you and your crew,” the overwhelmed leader of the islander’s large town blusters, weeping in sheer relief. The poor man is clutching at Luffy’s hands, either unaware or too grateful to care about the bloody state of the captain’s knuckles. He's shaking his hands and bowing to him in equal turns. 

“What, like a party?” Luffy asks, staring at the leader with rapidly widening eyes. 

“A party, a parade, a banquet—anything you want. Really, truly anything,” the man blubbers through tears of sheer relief. 

Luffy gets a distinctive gleam in his eyes. “Hey, hey, Nami?” He’s practically vibrating in place with excitement. 

The navigator gets a fond smile on her face and sighs. “Yes, Captain?” 

“Did you hear that? We’re gonna have a  _ party!”  _ Luffy shouts, leaping into the air and dragging the poor, delighted mayor with him. 

“I guess we’re staying for a while, then,” Nami comments. 

* * *

“Wow,” Sanji murmurs in amazement, taking in the sight that is the town square of Mae all aglow with fireflies and colorful party lights alike. 

He’d disappeared for awhile to join the island’s most talented chefs in preparation for the party. (Sanji makes it a point to collect as much information about the native cuisine of the inhabited islands they visit, if he has the chance to. Tonight was certainly informative in that regard, if for no other reason.) But, having emerged from the busy kitchen of the largest restaurant in the heart of Mae, Sanji is startled by the sheer size of the night’s celebrations now that they're in full swing. 

The entire island, it seems, is crawling with life and an infectious air of celebration. Every store and bar and restaurant down the main drag of the town is open and teeming with chatter and cheers. It looks as though every business on Mae is engaged in the party. 

Sanji catches a glimpse of a delighted Robin having a truly impressive haul of books from the island’s library carried back to the Sunny by a few shop-hands. Sanji waves with hearts in his eyes and receives a nod and a smile in return. 

Continuing on his way, Sanji idles through the bustling town until a familiar sound calls his attention. 

A large, multi-story, unmarked building with blinking neon lights lays just off the main path of the party. The large, wooden doors are propped open and the chatter of patrons and the clinking of glasses betray the space as a bar of some sort.

From inside, Sanji hears the distinct sound of Nami laughing unrestrained and Franky shouting and cheering. He rushes inside, eager to see what made the flower of his heart laugh with such delight. 

At the center of the truly massive room is a circular bar. The low-hanging lights inside paint the entire room in a vibrant pink glow in an imitation of the neon-pink and red lighting on the outside face of the building. All around the walls are lush, crushed velvet booth-seating, almost like spectators seats, and dotted around the floor are tables and chairs. Occasionally, a raised, circular platform interrupts the immense sprawl of the room. As Sanji draws closer, it becomes immediately apparent what the platform is for. 

_ Dancers,  _ he thinks, nearly giddy with the revelation. Atop a platform, a thin woman with beautiful curves and olive skin twirls around and around a silver pole. She is naked save for a pink thong and dangerously tall pink heels. 

Another delighted cry interrupts Sanji’s drooling.  _ What is Nami doing in a place like this?  _

He finds her crowded around a large circular table with none other than Franky, Brook, and Zoro. Seated at the table are Nami and another man Sanji doesn’t recognize. In each of their hands is a set of cards and in the middle of the sits what appears to be a huge betting pool. Franky stands imposingly behind Nami, glaring down the crowd amassed behind the other man she’s playing against. Brook hovers over Franky with palpable excitement, giving commentary in an announcer's voice.

“C’mon, you got this,” Zoro says, squeezing Nami’s shoulders like she’s a boxer squaring up for a match. 

He must be more than a little drunk already, Sanji thinks, watching him and Nami interact. Zoro’s usually not this loose and friendly with her unless they’re both fairly drunk. For her part, Nami’s eyes never break from her opponent, despite all the jeering from both sides of the table. 

A scantily clad waitress passes with a silver tray of cocktails and Sanji flags her down for one before returning to the scene. 

Nami draws a card from her hand and lays it down face up. 

“You lose,” she sing-songs, a positively predatory gleam in her eyes. 

Her opponent strains over the table, his eyes wide and baffled. The room erupts in shouts and laughter while Nami sweeps the huge golden betting pile into her arms. Laughing in a way that Sanji has not seen for a long time, Zoro grabs Nami by the hips and  _ tosses her  _ in the air, both of them nearly shrieking in delight. 

Nami is chanting, breathless and excited, "We're _rich!_ We're fucking _rich!"_ while Zoro chants, " _Booze! Booze!"_ as he swings her around in celebration.

More than a little miffed at how affectionate Nami is being with the _damn Marimo brute_ , Sanji asks Franky, “What’s going on?” 

“Zoro-bro and Nami bet big on that sucker over there losing. Now Nami gets 90% of the winnings, Zoro gets a 10% cut,  _ and  _ Nami’s opponent is picking up the Strawhat drink tab all night!” Franky slaps a huge hand (gently--a full slap might break Sanji's spine) on his back in a show of camaraderie. 

“Huh,” Sanji says, baffled in the face of Zoro and Nami’s drunken joy at having bankrupted this poor, poor sucker. 

Another cocktail waitress passes and Sanji grabs her attention. “Excuse me, madam, do you have a light?” he holds out his unlit cigarette. He lost his coat back in the kitchens and with it, his lighter. 

The waitress, a pretty thing with wide, blue eyes, smiles and says, sweet as pie, “Hun, I’ve got something even better than that to smoke, follow me.” 

Curious, he pockets the cigarette and follows her. 

* * *

The waitress leads him to the bar where she flags down the attention of another woman. She’s not dressed in the waitress’ or dancers’ attire. Instead, this woman is wearing working dungarees and has her long hair tied up with a bandanna. She’s seated at the counter but not as a patron. Her deft fingers appear to be wrapping cigarettes. Sanji notes with fascination that her hands appear to  _ glow  _ under the light as she works. 

“Lorna,” the waitress calls. “One of the pirates is looking for a smoke.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Lorna peers up at Sanji with starkly discerning eyes. “I may be able to help with that.” She coaxes Sanji forward with a tilt of her head. 

_ Oh, yeah,  _ Sanji thinks, helplessly,  _ this is more like it.  _

He drapes himself across the counter, taking a seat at a bar stool and leaning towards her. “Hello, Mademoiselle,” he kisses her hand like a true gentleman and watches as she raises an eyebrow and huffs out a laugh. 

“These are specialty,” Lorna says, her voice practically dripping seduction. "A gift of gratitude from me to you for your work earlier. Free of charge."

Across the bar, Sanji can see Zoro and Nami ordering a round of ale. He notes it absently but his true attention lies… elsewhere. 

“You can’t get a smoke like this anywhere else in the Grand Line, baby,” Lorna tells him, laying out a bit of paper and getting to work. It may just be the atmosphere, but Sanji is  _ sure  _ that the tips of her fingers are literally glowing gold under the light as she works. “It’s different for everyone, but… well, no one whose ever had one of my smokes has been left unsatisfied.” 

“Oh? Are you proposing that you could... satisfy me?” He gives her his most seductive look, not thinking all that deeply about what she means. She hums appreciatively, but otherwise does not react to the blatant come-on. He watches her collect some dried herbs from a bowl and begin to roll them in the paper. 

“Is it tobacco?” Sanji finds himself asking. 

“Trade secret, baby,” Lorna says, smirking. “Guess you’ll find out.” When she’s finished, she passes him the hand-rolled smoke between deft fingers. 

Smiling and nearly giddy with the flirtatious air of the whole exchange, Sanji brings it to his lips and leans in for a light. Lorna meets him in the middle, lighting the thing in a parody of a kiss—her flame to the end of the cigarette. She sets the ornate lighter down and lifts her own smoke to Sanji in a mock-cheers. 

“Bottoms up, baby."

It becomes immediately clear to Sanji that what she’s handed him is  _ not  _ tobacco. Whatever it is, it goes down silky-smooth, tasting herbal (almost vaguely medicinal) and faintly like cinnamon, of all things. 

_ This might be a drug,  _ Sanji thinks in distant surprise as he holds the hit in his lungs. He exhales a plume of sweet-smelling smoke.  _ This is most definitely a drug,  _ he decides as a pleasant buzzing sensation starts in his chest.  _ She just gave me drugs.  _

“Lorna-chan?” he asks, drawing the blunt away from his lips.

Seemingly sensing his question, she says, “Don’t worry, baby. It’s non-addictive and completely safe.” Sanji watches her snap her fingers and thinks he might already be high as he watches gold sparks dance around her nails. “I make ‘em that way.”

“Lorna-chan is a devil fruit user,” the cocktail waitress that escorted Sanji over interrupts suddenly. “She takes this plant that grows only on Mae and she uses her power to alter and amplify the high.” The waitress herself is smoking one. 

“I have the loose-loose fruit,” Lorna says lowly and slowly, like she’s whispering a seductive secret.

Sanji feels himself taking another drag.  _ Force of habit,  _ he thinks.  _ Hard not to smoke something that’s smoke-able and in my mouth.  _ His eyes are fixed on Lorna’s lips. 

“With a touch,” the tips of Lorna's fingers glow and spark briefly. “I can loosen a person’s inhibitions.” 

“Damn,” he says on an exhale of smoke. 

Everything is starting to feel pretty damn good, three or four hits in. Lorna kisses him on the cheek. “Go have fun,” she presses the words to his skin, whisper soft. 

Sanji turns around and leans against the bar, smoking slowly and savoring each breath. His eyes follow everything under the bright pink light, from the dancers to the gamblers to the people drinking and mingling all around the bar.

“Yeah, okay,” he says and wanders off. 

* * *

“What the hell is up with the cook?” Zoro asks idly, sloshing a little bit of beer onto his pants as he gestures towards a group of patrons dancing in a cluster on the main floor. A band has set up in the opposite corner. 

Among the dancers is Sanji, his dress shirt untucked, his tie loose and slung around his shoulders. One of the nude dancers is down on the dance floor with him, rubbing her chest up and down Sanji’s body. Sanji's fingers are hooked into the string of her thong, pulling her close. 

“What do you mean?” Nami says, not once looking up from the pile of belli she’s counting. 

She and Zoro are sitting on one of the velvet benches that line the walls of the club. Her feet are bare and kicked up into Zoro’s lap, who’s only allowing it because he’s drunk. He has one hand on his drink and one idly resting on her ankle. Occasionally, he squeezes it. Nami is sorting her winnings while sipping the absolutely fantastic wine she’s bought on someone else’s dime. 

Every once in awhile, she or Zoro will say something bitchy about someone in the club they're watching _(he has a weird shaped head, she just paid way too much for that drink, that loser just gambled away a third of his earnings) or_ just about the place in general. 

“Look at ‘im,” Zoro replies, gesturing again and sloshing some of his drink around. 

Nami glances up and sees Sanji grinding against some dancer girl. “Oh, leave him alone, he’s enjoying himself!" She chuckles. 

“But  _ look, _ ” Zoro says in what Nami considers to be the swordsman’s version of a pouty whine. (Really, it's more of a forceful and urgent tone to his usual voice. But. Well.)

“I guess they… really are going at it,” she says slowly, sitting up for a better look. She accidentally drives her heel into Zoro’s groin. He winces and throws her feet out of his lap. “Oops,” Nami offers. She's too drunk at this point to genuinely feel bad for accidentally kicking Zoro in the balls. 

The girl that Sanji's been dancing with has her ass backed against his groin. He has one hand on her hip and one hand reaching up and behind his head to cradle someone's neck as they come up behind him and start kissing at his neck. 

“Not that the Cook isn’t usually a total man-whore,” Zoro pauses to take a huge slug of whatever toxic poison he’s drinking, “But he’s being unusually whore-ish right now.” Zoro's drink smells strongly of lighter-fluid. 

“Aw, are you worried for his purity?” Nami mocks. But, well, now that Zoro’s mentioned it, it  _ does  _ look like Sanji and that girl are  _ really  _ going at it. And the new girl that just came into the picture too...

“Oh,” she says. “Huh.” 

“Exactly.” 

“Well, keep your eye on him,” Nami says. She freezes and barks out a laugh. “Hah!  _ Eye.  _ Get it?” 

She pokes at his face. 

Okay, so. Nami might be willing to admit that she’s a little drunk.

“Shut up,” Zoro grumbles, swatting her hand away. 

He goes back to drinking his entire body weight in cheap ale but Nami notices that his eye never leaves Sanji. 

* * *

Eventually, Nami wanders away, probably leaving the club to see the rest of the party. At this point, Zoro has lost track of Franky and Brook. He’s not even entirely sure that Franky and Brook are still  _ here.  _ There’s a whole island decked out to the nines just for them. The rest of the crew _has_ to be exploring and taking full advantage of that. There’s just no doubt. 

Zoro knows that Luffy is probably gorging himself somewhere. A strip club isn’t really his scene, after all.

Actually, Zoro really wouldn’t even consider it  _ his  _ scene, but the witch had dragged him here with the promise of cheap drink and a bit of gambling. And now that he’s here… well. 

Zoro tracks Sanji as the cook mingles around the bar. Somewhere along the line, Sanji’s lost a few buttons on his shirt, leaving it open until mid-way down his chest. The two dancers that he had been entertaining himself with are nowhere to be found, but Sanji isn’t wanting for company. 

Not only is the cook chatting up a woman that looks like a bartender, there’s an exceedingly androgynous guy—or girl, Zoro seriously can’t tell—who’s basically sitting in his lap. The two are sharing drinks and even smokes like old friends. 

_ Must be a girl,  _ Zoro decides, watching  _ her  _ laugh so uproariously at something the bartender said that Sanji has to wind an arm around her waist to keep her from toppling out of his lap. Sanji rests his chin on  _ her  _ head and puckers his lips comically at the bartender for a kiss. 

The bartender woman—an older lady with her hair tied back with a bandanna—slips a hand-rolled cigarette between Sanji’s lips instead and lights it with a little electric spark from her fingers. 

He watches Sanji exhale a plume of smoke over the head of his companion, who squawks at him in mock offense and steals the smoke in retaliation. Sanji runs a hand through his own sweaty hair, briefly exposing both of his eyes. 

The sight of his whole face, as brief as it is, hits Zoro deep in the guts. 

_ Pretty,  _ an exceedingly possessive part of him growls out.

Zoro feels his own hands clench and relax around the tank of ale. It’s empty. It’s been a while since he’s had anything to drink, yet he still feels pleasantly buzzed. 

_ Maybe it’s all the smoke in here,  _ he thinks absently. The whole air is foggy with a fragrant, cinnamon-smelling smoke, even despite the front door being open. With the thought that some fresh air might clear his head, Zoro goes to stand. Just as he rises— 

The clear chime of a bell sounds throughout the floor of the club. Activity everywhere dies down and everyone turns their attention, almost simultaneously, to a set of dark curtains on the back wall. 

_ What—  _

The curtains part and a woman in a crisp suit steps away from what is obviously a stairwell that had been concealed behind the curtain. She’s flanked by two other people, a beautiful woman in an ornate dress and a slight, effeminate man in a robe. 

“Esteemed guests,” the woman croons in a voice that carries effortlessly across the quieted club. “It’s midnight. The upper levels have now opened to accept your patronage.” Someone catcalls and it’s immediately followed by a few whistles and scattered applause. “Given the nature of tonight’s celebrations, the usual entrance fee will be waived.” 

This statement is met with a cheer that rises up slowly from the assembled crowd.  The woman smiles and parts with a simple, “Let’s keep the party going, folks.” 

The woman and the man remain at the entrance to the staircase and begin greeting eager men as they approach. 

_ Oh,  _ Zoro thinks, frozen half-way to his feet.  _ This is a brothel.  _

As soon as the thought occurs to him, he’s looking for the cook. His eyes snap back to the bar where Sanji had just been and he’s surprised to find himself almost  _ alarmed  _ by his absence. 

_ Where—  _

Sanji’s blonde hair stands out like a beacon among the throngs of other patrons on an island of mostly dark-haired people. He and his androgynous companion are linked, arm-in arm a little ways from the bar. 

Like two magnets snapping to attention and flying together, Sanji and Zoro’s eyes meet across the room. 

_ Shit— _ struck with a sudden wave of embarrassment, Zoro feels a harsh protest rising in his throat— _ I wasn’t watching you,  _ or  _ I’m not your damned babysitter,  _ and even,  _ what the fuck are you looking at? _

They all get stuck in his throat and instead, he stays quiet. 

In nothing less than pure bafflement, Zoro watches Sanji’s whole face transform and  _ light up  _ at the sight of him. It’s one of those very rare moments where Zoro gets to see a full, unrestrained smile on the cook. His eyes scrunch up with the force of it and-- _go_ _ d fucking help him-- _ dimples bloom into prominence on his cheeks. Sanji gets these little happy-wrinkles at the corner of his visible eye when he smiles like this and _mother-fuck,_ the desire to _touch_ sizzles through Zoro's body like lava.

Something in his gut  _ cramps  _ and his hands twitch, useless and suddenly numb at his sides. 

“Oi! Marimo!” Sanji calls, tossing his free hand (the hand  _ not  _ wrapped around the waist of his companion) high in the air and waving. Sanji turns to the lady tucked under his arm and says something that she responds to with a nod and a smile. Then, he’s  _ walking over—  _

And Zoro hardly has time to brace himself to deal with a drunk, happy Sanji before the cook is _right_ _ there  _ pressing into his space, all teeth and leg and bare chest. 

“I didn’t know you were still here,” Sanji says, sucking on his cigarette. His hands are in his pockets but all the sudden they  _ aren’t  _ and Sanji is grabbing Zoro—

_ Not drunk enough for this,  _ Zoro’s brain supplies as Sanji’s warm hand wraps around his arm and tugs him a step forward. He may not be drunk  _ enough  _ for this to not be  _ weird  _ (they just don’t  _ do  _ this kind of thing—him and Luffy are tactile with each other, and Zoro is used to cuddling Chopper, and occasionally he’s comfortable being close with Nami, but  _ never  _ with Sanji—) but he’s drunk enough to not vocally protest as the cook starts to drag him towards the stairs. 

“C’mon, Lorna-chan said that the Strawhats get an extra discount tonight because of the battle and I damn well can’t expect anyone else on the crew to take advantage of it,” he says with a grin, pulling Zoro along back towards his new friend. 

The new friend in question is short, only about Luffy’s height, with chin-length, dark hair that’s half-pulled up into a ponytail of some sort and dark eyes. Even so close to them, Zoro  _ still  _ can’t definitively tell whether or not they’re a guy or a girl (although they just  _ have to be a girl  _ going off of how Sanji’s been treating them). They stick their hand out for an amiable shake. 

“Hey,” a surprisingly deep voice says. “I’m Ed, you can call me Eddie.” Their voice is deep enough that Zoro is questioning his initial assumption, but the name "Eddie" could go either way. He can feel himself blinking like a tool as he shakes Eddie’s hand slowly. “Your nakama has been treating me so well,” Eddie breaks off with a laugh that sounds suspiciously like a giggle.

“You’re a treasure,” Sanji says, clearing up absolutely nothing, before snatching the cigarette from between Eddie’s lips and catching Eddie with his other hand. 

“Cook,” Zoro starts, feeling a blush creep furiously down his face, “You’re not seriously suggesting we go to a brothel together…” 

Sanji laughs uproariously. Zoro becomes absentmindedly fixated on the length of Sanji’s pale, smooth neck when he tosses it back to laugh in that high-pitched cackle Zoro so rarely hears. 

Sanji turns to meet him and his pupils are  _ huge.  _ “C’mon, Marimo! Loosen up a little!” 

Zoro has one distinct thought as the three of them climb the staircase:

_ Fuck. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might have noticed I changed the chapter count from two to three. That is because this story is getting out of hand. 
> 
> It's nineteen pages and counting. Please send help.

On either side of the dark stairway leading to the upper levels of the club are beautiful paintings depicting all sorts of sex acts. One painting in particular looks a little like two men at the very height of ecstasy. Sanji glances at it for just a bit too long and finds himself blushing as he pulls Zoro and Eddie along with him upstairs. 

A very quiet part of Sanji whispers,  _ please don’t let Zoro notice me staring intently at gay sex.  _ A much louder part of Sanji says,  _ fuck it.  _

The lighting on the second floor is much different than it is on the first. The main space is lit in a dim red glow, giving extra length to shadows and painting everything it touches in shades of deep, ominous red. The decor is simple but set to match. There isn’t a bar upstairs, but there are a series of loungers, couches, rugs and cushions to rest on throughout the main room. All are warm colors—burgundys and maroons and reds that hold the unique light. There’s another staircase towards the back of the room, presumably leading to the third floor, and a set of hallways and doors sprawling out and away from the main space. 

Men are scattered around the various loungers throughout the room. There’s only a handful of patrons that are lingering in the area. It seems that a fair amount of people have already taken advantage of the night's discount and have disappeared to more private settings. 

Eddie (beautiful, slender, lithe Eddie with cheekbones that could cut glass) tugs on Sanji’s wrist and pulls him (and in affect, Zoro) towards a small gathering around a set of velvet couches. 

“Sanji-san!” A familiar dancer lights up when she sees them approaching. 

“Wow, you’re popular tonight,” Eddie teases, flinging themselves down onto one of the couches.

Sanji is quick to flop down beside them, but meets some resistance. 

Zoro is standing off to the side, arm still locked in Sanji’s hand, staring intently at the ground. His face is the same, stony mask that has become his resting expression ever since the crew separated back on Saobody. (Privately, Sanji misses how  _ expressive  _ Zoro used to be. There’s not much to be done. Two years can do a lot to change a person.)

“What?” Zoro says, startling Sanji out of his thoughts. 

Without realizing it, Sanji had started to squeeze Zoro tighter. 

Sanji hums and adjusts his grip. “Sit, moss-brain. Enjoy the company.” He doesn’t relax until he feels Zoro’s weight settle on his other side. He sits rigidly, almost nervously, giving a stark contrast to the way Eddie is slumped into Sanji’s side. 

“Lee!” Eddie calls suddenly, waving a man over. Lee is tall and well-muscled with long, dark hair and a frankly ridiculous bone structure. He’s wearing the simple robe that seems to be the outfit of choice among the male workers for the brothel. 

Zoro tenses as Lee approaches. 

“Eds,” Lee says, casting a wry smile around the assembled group. It consists of Sanji, Eddie, Zoro, the dancer Sanji was with earlier, Jules-chan, and another woman with short, dark hair. “What a crowd,” Lee comments. “Can I join?” 

“If you bring booze and a few blunts,” Eddie urges him. 

“Alright. Any special requests?” Lee winks in Sanji’s direction.

“Oh, Handsome, you do not have to try that hard,” Sanji blurts out without thinking, leaning back and spreading his arms across the back of the couch in what he hopes is an enticing sprawl. It’s been a bit of time since Sanji’s hooked up with a man. He might be rusty. 

Zoro goes ramrod stiff at Sanji’s side while Eddie, the two girls, and the newcomer, Lee, burst out into giggles.  _ Shit,  _ Sanji blinks.  _ Did I say that out loud?  _

“Believe me, Sanji-kun,” Eddie giggles out, “You are far from rusty.” 

“Damn, and here I was thinking you’d be all repressed and pent up. It’s a shame,” Lee takes a few steps forward until he’s towering over a seated Sanji. The man leans forward into Sanji’s space, smelling like pine and  _ sex,  _ and whispers low, “I was looking forward to breaking through whatever hard shell you had, Pretty Thing.” 

Sanji exhales a plume of cinnamon smoke slowly through his teeth. He takes his time putting out the smoke and he  _ sure as shit  _ takes his time stroking a hand over Lee’s firm chest. 

“I may not have a hard shell, but I’ve sure got a hard—”

“Okay!” Zoro interjects with a bark of a shout. “You,” he growls out, tapping Lee’s arm once firmly. “Booze. Go. Now.” 

Lee pulls back and smiles. “Alright, booze it is. Any special requests?” 

Zoro mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like,  _ “I’m not drunk enough for this”  _ before shooing Lee off with a bitter command to, “Just bring whatever.” 

“So, Sanji-kun,” one of the girls pipes up, leaning forward on her knees. “Tell us about the  _ last man  _ you were with…” She wiggles her eyebrows.

“Until I saw you with Eddie, I wouldn’t have believed it!” Jules chirps around the smoldering cig in her mouth. “The way we danced tonight… Damn, babes. I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type to go for other men!” 

“Yeah, Cook,” Zoro bites out. Sanji swivels to look at him, heart pounding loudly in his chest. “I guess you never really know a person, huh?” 

Sanji swallows, his mouth having suddenly run dry. He hadn’t  _ meant  _ to say that in front of Zoro. It’s not like he was  _ hiding  _ it. But… 

“Zoro,” Sanji starts and stops. All the words he has suddenly feel clunky and clumsy in his mouth. Simultaneously, Sanji wishes he was both more sober and more intoxicated.  _ There is no universe in which this conversation would not be awkward,  _ he thinks bitterly. 

“It’s not a  _ thing, _ ” he says. “I am appreciative of beauty in all forms, you brute.” 

“Yeah, when ‘beauty’ means tits the size of the moon,” Zoro growls out. 

One of the girls shrieks in laughter. Eddie stifles a snicker into Sanji’s shoulder.  _ It feels good,  _ Sanji notes absently.  _ Good to touch and be touched like this.  _ A dizzy, buzzed-out part of him wants someone stifling laughter into his shoulder or his chest or his neck  _ always.  _ It feels so  _ good  _ to have someone muffle their voice against his skin.  _ Intimate. Relaxing.  _

“Do you even  _ know  _ where I spent my two years, Marimo?” 

“Ooo, this sounds like a story,” Eddie whispers. Jules drags a bean-bag type cushion closer to the foot of the couch and drapes herself across it. 

“...No,” Zoro murmurs, face as still as stone. 

“Alright, then. Ladies, moss-head, and Eddie... allow me to tell you all about the Kamabaka Kingdom.” 

* * *

“Oh my  _ god!”  _ one of the dancer girls blurts. “That’s  _ hilarious! _ ” 

_ No,  _ Zoro thinks in dawning horror.  _ No it is not. It is a cosmic joke and I am the only one not laughing.  _ He takes a long, _long_ drink of the wine Lee brought the assembled group. 

“I definitely misjudged you, Sanji-kun,” Lee murmurs. 

“I didn’t!” Eddie laughs in delight, waving their smoke around as they talk. “I could tell by the way Sanji-san looked at me that he was something special.” 

“Oh, stop. And I told you to just call me Sanji,” the cook says, placing a few feather-light kisses onto the side of Eddie’s face. 

“Oh my god, Sanji. Did you ever wear heels? Or makeup? God, I’d practically kill for your complexion. I bet you could rock a red-lip.” This girl sounds  _ way too excited about that  _ for Zoro’s tastes. 

_ Oh my god, don’t think about the cook in heels.  _

Sanji bats his stupidly long lashes at her and replies in his sultriest voice, “What do you think?”  _ Please leave it vague,  _ Zoro prays, still hoping to get out of here alive and without the world’s most awkward boner for his crewmate. “Of course I did.” 

Zoro snags the bottle of wine off of the table and starts chugging. 

“C’mon! Up, up, up!” the girl tugs Sanji to his feet. 

(Zoro absolutely does  _ not  _ miss the warmth of Sanji against his side. Not at  _ all. _ ) 

“I’ve got to see this,” Lee remarks. The prick pushes himself up from where he had been sprawled across the rug.  _ Bastard,  _ Zoro thinks bitterly. 

“Oh my god, Jules, you’re a nightmare,” Eddie whispers in delighted awe. 

The girl in question, Jules, pulls the stiletto heels off of the feet of her friend and goes for Sanji’s feet like a woman crazed. 

_ Please, no.  _

Ignoring his desperate pleas, Zoro feels arousal spread hot and heavy through his gut followed closely by white hot embarrassment.

Sanji staggers drunkenly into the pair of dark blue heels and sways like he’s going to fall over. Collectively, the group gasps. Zoro reaches out his arms to steady him out of reflex, only to have Sanji spring upright with no difficulty and catch himself in a stunning display of grace. The cocky motherfucker then puts his hands on his hips and gives the group a little twirl. 

The girls  _ shriek  _ in delight. 

“Damn!”

“Holy shit, if I wasn’t already into you…” Eddie whispers in reverent awe. 

“Sanji-san,” Lee croons. “I have a challenge for you.” 

“Oh yeah?” Sanji says, raising one of his absurd eyebrows. 

_ Oh no,  _ the last remaining shred of Zoro’s sanity cries. 

“I dare you to dance for us in those shoes.”

“Pfft,” Sanji huffs out a laugh. “Easy.” 

“Let’s not,” Zoro finds himself growling, reaching to grab the  _ stupid, idiot  _ cook and drag him back to the couch where  _ Lee  _ can’t put his gross eyes all over him. 

Sanji ignores him, batting his hand away. “Let’s.” 

There’s no music on this floor—there’s only the vague hint of a drumbeat vibrating through the floor from the club below. It doesn’t matter. Sanji doesn’t need it. And, anyways, with the way the group is fucking  _ screaming  _ and hollering at him, even if there was music, no one would be able to hear it.

Sanji steps up onto the low table, carefully avoiding the ashtrays and scattered drinks. The heels click against the lacquered surface. And then he starts to  _ move.  _

Zoro’s lungs stop working. 

Watching Sanji move his hips back and forth, watching him run his hands over his own body in an imitation of a lover's touch, watching the bow of his body as he moves with unearthy, liquid grace to an unheard rhythm… it’s  _ hypnotising.  _ It’s worse than Zoro ever thought something like this could be. He can’t breathe. He can’t look away. He shouldn’t be watching but he  _ can’t look away.  _ The alcohol racing through his system isn’t enough to quell his body’s response to such a raw display of sensuality. If listening to the cook talk animatedly about  _ sex with men— _ about  _ all the sex he has had with men _ —wasn’t arousing enough, watching him move like he is about to  _ have sex  _ is a special kind of torture. 

Raw instinct bubbles hot and heady in the pit of Zoro’s stomach. His hands itch to touch those fucking hips, those damn thighs, his fucking  _ waist…  _ He sets the now empty wine bottle down with a heavy thud. 

Sanji’s eyes leap to Zoro’s.

_ Your move, cook,  _ Zoro thinks, delirious. It must be so obvious on his face—his naked desire. 

Sanji looks right at him and bites his lip. 

_ Fuck.  _

Before Zoro can  _ move,  _ before he can even process the  _ enormity  _ of this moment, Lee reaches out a hand to Sanji and the cook takes it. Lee helps him step down from the table to a round of rousing applause. Laughing, Sanji kicks the heels off and flops down into Lee’s  _ lap,  _ his back to the other man’s chest. 

“Oh, shit, I need a smoke after that,” Sanji jokes. Eddie eagerly passes over the smoke he had been sucking down like a lifeline during Sanji’s performance. 

The whole room is cloudy with the stuff and Zoro still can’t fucking  _ breathe.  _

_ What the fuck,  _ he thinks, desperately.  _ What the actual fuck.  _ _ How can I want him so much?  _

His desire is staggering. He's never looked it in the face before. Never like this. He's never _had to_ confront his attraction to his crew-mate and now that he is, Zoro is breathless with it. He's never felt so out of control. So wild. So unrestrained. 

“Hey! That gives me an idea,” Eddie suddenly leaps to their feet. “Let’s play a game!” 

* * *

“Mmm… Marimo,” Sanji says, pointing lazily at a clearly sulking Zoro. “Truth or dare?” 

“No, I am not doing this. This game is for children.” 

“Aw, boo!” Jules calls, slapping at Zoro. He bristles like a cat at the motion and Sanji has the absurd thought that Zoro would  _ hiss at her  _ if it wouldn’t be totally out of place. He can’t stop himself from laughing at the mental image. 

Zoro has been weird and hard-to-read all night. His expression is as stony as ever and something is  _ burning  _ in his eyes that Sanji just can’t put his finger on. 

He wants him to have  _ fun.  _ Sanji is sober enough to admit just how buzzed he really is (the answer is that he is pretty pleasantly high) and he’s having the time of his  _ life  _ with these people. Absurdly, Sanji  _ needs  _ Zoro to have just as much fun as he is. 

(Oddly enough, if told that he was going to enjoy spilling all his dirty secrets about fumbled teenage handjobs on board the Baratie and divulge all his secrets about how he learned to give amazing head on an island of crossdressers—and, if told that he was going to spill it all in front of  _ Zoro _ , no less—Sanji would have had an  _ amazing _ laugh. There would have been  _ no way in hell  _ anyone could ever get him drunk enough to be comfortable doing such a thing. Absolutely no way. And even upon the pain of  _ death,  _ Sanji would  _ never  _ dance on top of a table at a strip-club-slash-bar-slash-brothel in another woman’s heels.)

But tonight he did--tonight he  _ is-- _ and he’s having a fucking  _ blast.  _

_ Zoro deserves this, too,  _ Sanji knows it.  _ Let go, you marimo-asshole.  _

So, he calls on him. 

“Truth or dare, Marimo. Don’t pussy out of this,” he threatens, grinning around the smoke he’s rolling between his teeth.

“Fuck off,” Zoro hisses between clenched teeth. 

“Nope. Truth or dare, or you have to take a shot.” Sanji waves the bottle of tequila in front of himself.

“Okay, give me the shot, then,” Zoro says, crossing his arms and looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. 

“No! Zoro-san! That’s no fun,” Eddie whines, nudging Zoro with their elbow. 

“Please?” Sanji sing-songs. 

After a beat, Zoro caves. “Fine, whatever. Truth, I don’t give a shit.” 

The question rises easily to the forefront of Sanji's mind. After what he saw earlier--the easy camaraderie between Nami and Zoro--the question (and the surrounding anxiety it causes him) has been lingering around all night. “Do you have a  _ thing  _ going on with Nami-swan?” Sanji just can’t help himself, he  _ has to ask.  _

Zoro’s face is the perfect vision of  _ horror.  _ “What?! Gross,  _ no.”  _

“Hey!” Sanji yelps. “Nami-swan isn’t  _ gross,  _ you idiot!” 

“ _ God,  _ why the hell would you—? No, I do not have a ‘ _ thing’  _ with Nami, you fucking weirdo.  _ Never.”  _ Zoro is comically horrified at the insinuation. They're _shouting_ at each other. When did _that_ happen? 

“Why the hell not?” Sanji bites out. “What’s wrong with Nami-swan? No, better yet, what’s wrong with  _ you? _ ” 

“I’m  _ gay  _ you fucking shit-stick!” Zoro shouts. 

There is a horrible moment of silence. 

Zoro’s single eye goes  _ wide  _ and he flushes the most brilliant shade of pink from his neck up.  “ _ Fuck,  _ I’m drunk,” he mutters, lurching for the bottle of tequila and pouring himself a shot with shaking hands. 

Lee is the one to break the loaded silence. “Well, I definitely didn’t see that coming.”

“Shut the fuck up, pony-tail,” Zoro bites out at him. “I’m not interested in your  _ opinion _ on where I stick my dick.” (Damn, if Sanji thought Zoro looked angry and unhappy before...) 

Lee holds his hands up in a placating gesture. “No judgement, man. Just surprise is all. Who woulda’ thought that pirate hunter Zoro is—?”

“Do not finish that sentence—” Zoro growls.

“Alright, alright!” Lee laughs, looking way too amused about the whole thing. 

“Bulllllshittttt,” Sanji whispers. It just comes  _ falling  _ out of his mouth in one big slur of sound.

All eyes snap to him. “No fucking  _ way  _ you’re  _ gay  _ and I didn’t know about it. Holy  _ shit,  _ does  _ Luffy  _ know?” 

Sanji’s world-view is  _ rapidly  _ rearranging. He’s dizzy with it. 

“How am  _ I  _ supposed to know what that idiot knows? I don't even know if that kid can _read!_ ” Zoro practically shouts. 

Sanji splutters. “ _ I don’t know!  _ I’m  _ processing!”  _

Zoro barks out a harsh laugh. “What about  _ you,  _ Cook? It’s not like  _ you  _ ran around the ship __ telling everyone that you swing both ways.” 

“Wait, wait,  _ wait,”  _ Eddie interrupts, eyes as wide as dinner plates. “So, you’re telling me that  _ neither of you  _ are out to anyone on your crew?” Baffled, they gesture helplessly between Sanji and Zoro. "This is... you both... are just finding out? About each other?"

Jules coughs on a particularly rough hit. “That’s fucking rough,” she chokes out. “This is so wild.” Her companion nods.

“What are the odds, huh?” Lee murmurs, running a soothing hand down Sanji’s rigid spine. (It does not help.)

“Well, congrats, you two!” Eddie shouts. They slosh tequila everywhere with a violent toasting motion. “To coming the  _ fuck out!”  _

Zoro sighs and takes the world’s longest drink. 

* * *

“Hmmm… Zoro-san! Truth or dare!” 

“Stop fucking  _ picking me,  _ you all  _ suck,”  _ Zoro grumbles, rolling his one eye towards the ceiling. Since Sanji first called on him and he blurted out his sexuality in a drunken fit of insanity and poor impulse control,  _ everyone  _ keeps calling on him in the hopes of getting more _dirt._

“Gotta choose one, Marimo!” Sanji laughs. He's enjoying himself _way too much._

“Truth or dare?” Jules repeats, wiggling her eyebrows. 

_ What even is tonight?  _

Zoro wishes, not for the first time tonight, that he was drunker than he actually is. 

“Dare,” he acquiesces. 

“Shotgun a hit from Sanji!” 

“What the fuck does that even  _ mean?”  _ Zoro grumbles, throwing his hands in the air. 

Through absolutely  _ hysterical laughter,  _ Lee explains. “It’s when someone takes a hit and passes the smoke to you from their mouth.” 

Zoro blinks. After a moment, “That sounds fucking gross.” 

“Here! I’ll show you!” Eddie shouts, jumping to his feet and rushing over to Sanji, who’s slumped next to Lee on the opposite couch. Sanji props himself up and smiles as Eddie approaches. 

Without further ceremony, Eddie plops themselves down right in Sanji’s lap and takes a huge, slow pull off the smoke in their hand.

Zoro’s stomach rolls with bile. He’s torn between  _ needing to see this  _ and  _ absolutely wanting to stop it.  _ He doesn’t get a moment to decide which he would rather have happen before it's happening. 

Eddie seals their lips to Sanji’s, cradling the cook’s face in their slight hands. Sanji’s eyes flutter shut. After a moment, Eddie pulls back, sighing in contentment. Sanji snaps his eyes open and releases a long, drawn out stream of smoke into the air. 

“Get a room you two,” the dancer whose name Zoro still doesn’t know says. 

Zoro is painfully torn between agreeing with her and desperately wanting to see  _ more.  _

Sanji is beautiful when he kisses someone. The revelation hits Zoro like a kick to the solar plexus. As much as Sanji flirts, Zoro has never actually  _ seen him kiss anyone before.  _ The cut of his jaw as he leans in towards Eddie is fucking  _ sinful.  _ The way his long, elegant fingers touch his partner sends heat ricocheting through Zoro’s body. The flutter of his eyelashes, the expression on his face, the slight scrunch of his curly eyebrow…

“Alright, Marimo,” Sanji announces, standing and dusting off his pants. It brings Zoro back to reality with all the subtlety and gentleness of a sledgehammer. 

_ Oh, shit, he’s not actually gonna—  _

“Ready? Or are you gonna take the shot?” 

_ Unfuck yourself,  _ Zoro’s inner voice screams.  _ If you don’t un-stick your tongue from the roof of your mouth and say something, you will never get another chance! _

Not trusting his voice, Zoro sets the glass of whiskey he had been nursing aside. With the newly freed hand, he ushers Sanji closer. His heart pounds a painful staccato out in his chest. 

Sanji, clearly surprised, raises an eyebrow and starts to walk forward. 

It’s only a few steps, but each one feels like it takes a lifetime. Zoro feels sweat bloom across the back of his neck and drip down into his shirt. He’s suddenly aware of everyone else in the room in a way that he wasn’t just a moment before. Eddie has taken Sanji’s spot next to Lee. The girls are playing with each other’s hair, sprawled out on the cushions between the table and the couch. Across the room, a man is groping the naked ass of a prostitute perched in his lap. A waitress in a comically short skirt and nothing else saunters by with a tray of frilly drinks. Someone Zoro can’t see moans like they’ve just had the best orgasm of their life. 

In an instant, Sanji is there. Their knees knock together. Slowly, Sanji climbs onto the couch and straddles Zoro’s lap. A blunt burns lazily between Sanji’s index and middle finger. 

He leans impossibly close. Zoro can smell him. His scent is brutally sobering. 

_ This is Sanji. This is the cook.  _

Inexorably, Zoro’s hands come around to brace Sanji as he leans over him. The feeling of the cook’s powerful thighs under Zoro’s hands sends lightning throughout Zoro’s entire nervous system. 

_ This is Sanji. This is happening. _

“This okay?” Sanji asks. He’s too quiet for anyone else to hear, like this. His mouth is right by Zoro’s ear. The ghost of his warm breath skitters across Zoro’s skin. It’s charged, like the air before a thunderstorm. 

“Yes,” Zoro replies, unthinking. 

Sanji draws back into his line of sight with a small smile. Instead of bringing the joint to his own lips, Sanji places the thing between  _ Zoro’s _ . His blue, blue eyes are alight with challenge. It’s the same face Sanji wears when he’s about to try and kick Zoro’s ass. 

Without breaking eye-contact, Zoro takes a hit. 

“C’mon,” Sanji murmurs. “Give it to me.” 

The smoke swirls in Zoro’s lungs. It burns, but he doesn’t let himself cough. He doesn’t  _ dare.  _ A furious tingle starts in the center of his body and works its way outwards. His heart begins to beat furiously. 

Then, Sanji  _ wiggles,  _ shifting almost imperceptibly over Zoro’s lap. Those powerful thighs flex and relax on either side of Zoro’s own legs. 

“C’mon,” Sanji urges. 

Helplessly, Zoro obeys. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It occurs to Sanji that he wants Zoro like he has never wanted anyone before. And, well, after that particular realization, there's only really one question left to ask himself.
> 
> "What's stopping me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My process for editing this last chapter can essentially be distilled down to two things: 
> 
> 1) deleting a truly unnecessary amount of the word "fucking" used for dramatic emphasis. For example: "His beautiful fucking mouth" became "His beautiful mouth", etc. 
> 
> 2) reading a scene and asking myself, "is this horny enough???? Can it be hornier???" 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has read or given kudos or commented or bookmarked this hot mess of a story. I am so grateful to each and every one of you for accompanying me on this path of sin that I have chosen to walk. I sincerely adore you all.

_Oh my god_ , _what the hell am I doing?_

Zoro tastes overwhelmingly like booze when he seals his lips over Sanji’s and passes the smoke from the joint. His lips are hot like a brand where they touch. Sanji very, _very_ carefully is poised over him so that his crotch is kept far away from any part of Zoro's person. Sanji is ridiculously, ludicrously hard. Has been since the moment Zoro said “yes”.

As soon as possible, Sanji breaks away and blows the smoke out of his own mouth. He barely holds the hit. 

He stares at Zoro.

Zoro stares back. 

“Okay,” Sanji whispers, mostly for his own benefit. He moves his hands to Zoro’s shoulders and tests his grip on them, squeezing once. Hard.

Sanji tries very hard to blink the fog out of his brain. The world feels syrupy and slow. 

_I want more._

“That wasn’t tobacco,” Zoro says. It’s whisper-quiet between them. Sanji has a feeling that is not what Zoro meant to say at all. 

Sanji slides his hands South, gliding over Zoro’s _insane_ pectorals. A shiver racks his whole frame. 

“No,” Sanji replies after a beat. “It wasn’t.” 

_I want him—when did that happen?_ Sanji stares into Zoro’s only good eye. He’s never been able to read him quite like he used to--not since Saobody when they were all ripped away from each other and Zoro came back _different--_ and that hasn’t changed now just because their lips touched. For the life of him, Sanji can't tell what's going through Zoro's mind right now. 

Underneath his palms, the fabric of Zoro’s shirt does nothing to conceal the sheer level of _heat_ that emanates from his frame. Sanji wants to wrap himself in it. 

_God, I want him like I’ve never wanted anyone before._

One of Zoro’s hand spasms and tightens on the back of Sanji’s thigh. The contact goes straight to his groin. 

_So what's stopping me?_

Sanji slides his hands up, getting a good grip on either side of Zoro’s neck—he has a feeling he’s gonna’ have to hang on tight for this—and surges forward, capturing Zoro in a kiss. 

The grip Zoro has on his thighs goes _bruise_ tight. Simultaneously, they both groan into the others’ mouth.

 _Closer,_ something inside Sanji screams with it.

He surges forward, bringing his chest flush against Zoro’s. He has to tilt his head down now to maintain the kiss and— _oh fuck, this angle—_ with a full body shudder, Sanji slides his tongue into Zoro’s open mouth. 

The inside of his mouth is hot like fire and smoother than silk. Kissing him feels fucking _luxurious._

Sanji can feel himself _shaking_ in Zoro’s lap, pressed against his much broader chest, and he’s simultaneously embarrassed by how badly this is affecting him and how much it’s turning him on. 

Zoro slides his hands up from Sanji’s thighs to cup his ass _._

“ _Zoro—”_ his name is ripped out of Sanji’s lungs and tapers off into a breathless _whine._

Impossibly, _god,_ like Sanji weighs fucking _nothing,_ Zoro _lifts_ him by his _ass—_ lifts Sanji’s _whole body up—_ and grinds him back down into his lap. 

_Who the fuck let Zoro get sexy?_ Outrage rises in Sanji’s throat like bile as he rocks with Zoro when the other man _repeats the same damn motion._

 _How is this allowed?_ Sanji is furiously turned on. He can fucking feel his own cock _l_ _eaking_ in his pants. 

“Off,” Sanji grunts out, hands scrabbling at Zoro’s shirt. He’s shaking so badly with arousal that he must look ridiculous, scratching uselessly at Zoro’s back and chest like a man crazed. “Get it _off.”_ Finally, he gets two good fist-fulls of Zoro’s shirt. 

Sanji _pulls_ and the shirt rips open down the back. 

“Holy motherfucking _shit!”_ someone shouts. 

Sanji couldn’t care less who the fuck it is. He throws the remnants of the shirt _away_ and finally— _fuck me running—finally,_ gets his hands on Zoro’s bare chest. 

Zoro is biting and sucking and licking into Sanji’s mouth and _keeps fucking bouncing Sanji up and down_ by his _ass_ in his _lap_ and Sanji has never felt anything like this before. The floodgates are wide-the-fuck open and can _never_ be closed again. He’s making all these needy little _noises_ into Zoro’s mouth, each one _punched out of him_ with every swipe of Zoro’s tongue against his own. 

It takes Sanji an age to realize that the person chanting “oh god, oh please, oh, please, please, please” is _him._ It takes him equally as long to realize that he can’t help it at all-- he wouldn't be able to stop, even with a gun to his head. 

“God, _Zoro,_ your _tits,”_ Sanji hisses. He pinches a nipple between his fingers— _hard_ —and relishes in the way Zoro _jolts_ against him. 

“ _Fuck—”_ it’s the first thing Zoro has said in a while. His voice sounds absolutely _shredded._ Sanji didn’t know Zoro _could_ sound like that. Sanji didn’t know anyone could sound so thoroughly fucked out with their pants still on. 

“Please, please, please,” Sanji continues to babble thoughtlessly. Zoro’s hands slide up the back of Sanji’s dress shirt, clutching him close, and Sanji takes the opportunity to show Zoro just what he can do with his hips when he’s not being _manhandled by the ass._

Sanji arches his back, tightens his grip with his thighs, and _drags_ himself lengthwise against Zoro’s groin with a positively _filthy_ little swirl of his hips. 

“Sanji, _shit—”_

Zoro is unmistakably _hard._ Zoro is also unmistakably _huge._

“Please, please, wanna’ get my mouth on you, _please,”_ Sanji gasps. 

_Aaaaand goodbye, brain-to-mouth filter! It was nice knowing you._

“Yeah?” Zoro husks out and _holy shit,_ is his voice...

“Zoro, _please,_ I need—”

“What? What do you need?” Sanji is all but dry-humping him, now. He’s about to fucking _come_ in his _pants._

“I—”

“ _Sanji.”_

“Everything— _fuck,_ Zoro, _anything.”_

* * *

Sanji is a fucking _wreck._

His crisp, clean dress shirt is caught midway down his arms, like someone got distracted tugging it off (which is absolutely what happened) and stopped with the job half done. A thin sheen of sweat decorates the pale expanse of his collarbone. A pink flush starts at his shoulders and sweeps down over his sculpted chest. His sweaty hair may hide half of his face, but it does nothing to conceal the blush that sits high on his cheekbones. His visible eye is fixed on Zoro’s own and _good god,_ Sanji’s pupils are _so, so wide._

Sanji is basically _shivering_ with arousal. 

He’s the prettiest thing Zoro has ever _seen._

“Suck on his nipples.” The sudden command cuts through Zoro like a blade. 

_Lee._

The other man is still sitting on the couch across from them. He’s undone his robe and has a hand wrapped around his own cock, shamelessly stroking himself off to the sight of them. He meets Zoro’s eyes. 

“Do it. He wants it.” Lee’s voice is like poison. 

Zoro has the sudden impulse to rip the man’s throat out with his teeth.

“Just look at him,” Lee husks out. _He’s getting off to this, to us…_ Zoro registers distantly. Lee chuckles and it is a dark sound. “I sure as hell am.” 

“Sanji?” Zoro whispers. 

“Y-yeah?” _God, the sound of him…_

“Let’s go.” 

Sanji slides off of his lap like melting butter. Zoro wants to lick every _inch_ of him. They stand and Zoro wraps an arm around Sanji’s chest, keeping him close, and more importantly, far out of the reach of anyone else. Holding him like this, with his forearm braced against Sanji’s chest, Zoro feels absurdly like he’s pinning a butterfly. 

Privately, Zoro decides he’s fine with that as long as it keeps this _fucking douchebag_ away from Sanji. 

“It’s been fun,” Sanji says, hoping into his shoes with the help of the dancer girls. One of them keeps making faces and mouthing without a hint of subtlety, “ _oh my god”_ at Sanji over and over again. 

“It was our pleasure,” Lee _purrs._ He’s still jerking himself off, watching Sanji like a hawk. It’s the most unnerving thing Zoro has ever experienced.

“Let me walk you out!” Eddie rises to their feet and offers Zoro a shy smile. 

Before Zoro can jump in and refuse, Sanji speaks up. 

“That’d be wonderful.” 

Zoro pinches him once in the side. Sanji steps on his toes. 

“Come back anytime, boys.” Lee’s voice is very quickly becoming Zoro’s least-favorite sound.

He is going to come back and cut this man. Hell, Zoro will cut his _dick off_ if he doesn’t put it away in the next ten seconds. 

They don’t stick around that long. With Eddie in the lead, they make it down to the first floor without incident and cut through the bustling bar out onto the street. The night air on the Spring island is refreshingly chilly. A truly massive bonfire burns just a little ways off in the horizon. The sound of distant music and animated chatter hangs in the air. 

“Can I steal him for just a moment, Zoro-kun?” Eddie blinks those round, dark eyes at him in a _pretty-pretty-please_ expression. (It’s an easily recognizable look. It’s the same look Chopper gives him when they want to use him as a pillow for a nap.)

Sanji squeezes Zoro’s arm once and slinks out of his grip. “I’ll just be a minute, okay?” he offers. 

_Please do not walk away from me right now,_ yelps something very small and very fearful in the back of Zoro’s mind. 

His instincts are _screaming_ for him to not let the cook go. Irrationally, Zoro is terrified that the second Sanji steps away for more than a minute or two, this _thing_ between them will stretch and stretch like a rope pulled too tight until it snaps and falls dead at his feet. 

Some part of this fear must be written on his face. Sanji smudges a quick kiss against the corner of Zoro’s mouth. 

The clumsy affection of it gut-punches Zoro with all the force of a sea-train. Smiling like he knows it, Sanji turns and follows Eddie just a little ways away from the building’s entrance.

“Don’t move from that spot,” Sanji calls over his shoulder. “You’ll get lost and I don’t wanna waste time finding you.” 

The chuckle that wiggles its way out of Zoro’s chest takes him by surprise. 

Even all sexed-up and drunk, Sanji is still such a fucking _dick._

_I love him._

* * *

Eddie’s hands are warm when they start to frantically shake Sanji by the shoulders. 

“ _Sanji!”_ Eddie hisses violently. “ _What the fuck,_ you didn’t _tell me_ you were in _love_ with your _crewmate!”_ Before Sanji has time to respond, let alone _process_ anything that just came out of their mouth, Eddie is giving a furious stream of commentary. “That was simultaneously the hottest thing I have ever seen with my own two eyes and the most romantic, most storybook thing to ever happen in the real world. Did you _see_ the face that man made when he got his lips on you? Holy motherfucking Mariejois, Sanji, and when you ripped his shirt off with your bare hands? I was almost moved to _tears._ ” 

“In what storybook does anyone drunkenly feel up a one-eyed swordsman in a brothel?" 

For some reason, _this_ is the focus of all of Sanji’s attention. 

Eddie has to reach up comically high to grip Sanji’s cheeks between their hands. The expression on their face is the kind of grim determination that Sanji has only ever seen on Luffy’s face when he’s about to bring a government to its knees. 

“Sanji,” Eddie says after taking a deep breath. Their hands smell like cinnamon and smoke. “You take that nice man back to your ship and you fuck him until you both cry because that is what you deserve.”

“Oh my god— _Eddie—”_

“You deserve the most wonderful things, Sanji-kun. For the love of _god,_ go _take them!”_ Their smile is bright—brighter than any of the thousands of twinkling lights Sanji has seen on this island tonight. “And if you’re still here in the morning, come tell me _every filthy little detail.”_

Their job seemingly complete, Eddie places their hands on their hips and _beams_ up at Sanji like a proud parent seeing their child off to their first day of school. 

“Eddie,” Sanji grins and folds into a formal bow. “You have made the most excellent companion tonight. It has been an honor to drink with you.” 

“Likewise—I would get absolutely fucking trashed with you any day of the week, Blackleg Sanji.” 

After a moment, “What was Lee’s _deal,_ though? Does he _always_ do that?” Sanji grimaces. 

Eddie bursts into laughter and pushes playfully at Sanji’s chest. “Holy hell, stop dilly-dallying and go get that _man,_ Sanji! If you don’t climb that like a tree in the next hour, I will come do it for you!” They manage to shove Sanji a good step back towards Zoro. 

Sanji takes a quick step back feeling so surprisingly _fond_ for a person he’s only known for a single night. He plants a quick, parting kiss on Eddie’s cheek before finally taking their advice. 

Zoro is waiting in the same spot Sanji left him. 

His heart rabbits in his chest. This moment, right now, walking towards a comically _shirtless_ Zoro, standing still and stoic in the street like there is no where else he would rather be… Sanji feels entirely sober for the first time since the party began. 

There is no surrealness, no odd sense of detachment, no booze or drugs or devil-fruits in the way of what Sanji is feeling, looking at Zoro. 

He’s nervous— _hell,_ is he _so fucking_ nervous—but he’s excited and giddy and _eager for this_ in a way that feels larger than himself—larger than even the two of them put together. 

_This feels bigger than us,_ Sanji thinks as he rejoins Zoro and threads their hands together in a tangle of warmth. 

It feels like the tide is finally coming in. 

* * *

On their way towards the docks, they pass by Luffy, at the center of the town’s feast. With him are Nami, Chopper, and Usopp. Here, Zoro falters for a moment. The two of them stop and watch as Usopp and Luffy fight each other in a frenzied flurry of elbows and cutlery for the platter of ribs that was just placed in the center of the enormous table. 

“Do you…?” Zoro gestures a little helplessly, feeling well and truly lost—just like everyone is always saying he is. 

After a beat, Sanji finishes the thought for him. “Do I want to stop and eat something?” He looks amused. 

_God,_ he’s so fucking _pretty._ The force of it sends Zoro’s heart spinning out of control. Sanji’s shirt is still only half-buttoned. The sight of his bare chest is painfully seductive. He _glows_ under the festival lights. His hair is objectively a sweaty mess and he’s _still_ the most beautiful thing Zoro has ever seen.

“Do you?” he asks him. 

Sanji smiles, coy, and shakes his head.

“No, Zoro.” He steps in close and leans in to whisper, just barely loud enough to hear over the din of the party, “The only thing I want to do is ride you till the fucking _sun_ comes up tomorrow.” 

Zoro stutters on an exhale. “Holy _fuck,_ Cook, where have you been _hiding this?”_ He finds it absolutely impossible that this insatiably sexual being has lived inside the shitty-cook this entire time. There’s no fucking _way_ that the _cook,_ of all people, was always like this-- was always this sensual, this much of a tease, this big of _cock-slut_ and Zoro just never knew it. There's just no way. 

He tugs Sanji closer with one hand on his ass and one hand on his neck. For a moment, Zoro worries he’s being too rough. Experimentally, he tugs on Sanji’s hair. _Hard._

Sanji’s face scrunches up in breathless arousal. His dick _jumps_ between them. 

God help him, the fucking _things_ he would do to him just to hear that little sound again… 

“Where have you been hiding _this?”_ Sanji fires back. Somehow, he’s gotten a hand between them. He punctuates his question by squeezing Zoro’s dick through his pants and if Zoro doesn’t get inside of him _right the fuck now_ he is going to lose his fucking _mind._

They kiss for one long, breathless moment.

“The ship,” Zoro manages. 

“Yeah,” Sanji murmurs, his eyes unmistakably transfixed on Zoro’s mouth. 

Something brutally possessive curls hot and needy through Zoro’s brain. On an impulse, he adjusts his grip on Sanji’s hair. He tugs, wrenching the cook’s head back and exposing the long length of his throat. 

“Ask nicely,” Zoro says against the skin of his neck.

Sanji _keens._ “Please, Zoro.” 

They practically trip over themselves in their race back to the docks. 

* * *

It’s cold outside but surprisingly warm inside the ship. Sanji’s not really in a position to ponder this difference, though, considering the state of his general person… Really, it’s pretty hard to have any coherent thought at all with Zoro pinning him to the wall of the boys’ cabin and ripping the button off of Sanji’s slacks with his _teeth._

“Oh, you _bastard,_ I liked these pants!” Sanji stutters out on a gasp. His hands claw uselessly for purchase on the wall. 

“I’m sorry, are you complaining right now?” Zoro practically growls. He lifts Sanji up even higher by the cheeks of his ass, sliding his back further and further up the wall, until he settles his legs over his shoulders. This puts Zoro’s mouth at the perfect height to— 

_“Oh motherfucking son of a whore, Zoro—!”_

Zoro licks a hot stripe up the length of Sanji’s cock through his briefs, only to pull away with a gasp. The front of Sanji’s black boxer-briefs are already wet with his own precum—soaked all the way through like he’s spilled a glass of water in his lap. 

“Hell, Sanji, you’re so _wet,”_ Zoro whispers reverently. His voice goes _dark_ —darker than Sanji’s ever heard it, sounding nearly _subsonic_ and practically humming with palpable desire. “Is this all for me?” With his mouth sliding hot and wet over the shape of Sanji’s cock through the fabric, he gets out with perfect clarity, “Are you this hard and this wet for me, Sanji?” 

Helpless to do anything else, Sanji arches his back and whines, high and needy in his throat. 

"Yes, _J_ _ust_ _for you--_ please, Zoro!” comes tumbling from his mouth. He paws uselessly at Zoro’s head, nails scratching against his scalp in an effort to get him to just fucking _move already._

“Not for anybody else? How 'bout that asshole back at the brothel? Hm? Did he get you hard?” 

It takes Sanji a moment to even guess at who Zoro might be talking about. _Lee..._ T he name occurs to Sanji just as Zoro uses his _teeth_ to snap the elastic band of Sanji’s underwear harshly against his oversensitive skin. 

Sanji nearly screams it, “No, no, baby, no—not for Lee, not for Eddie, not for anybody but you, oh _fuck,_ please, I can’t take it—”

Zoro picks him up, taking Sanji’s full weight into his arms. For a breathless moment, he’s airborne.

Sanji’s back hits the rug with a dull thud. Zoro follows him down, his wide hips forcing Sanji’s legs far apart, his chest pinning him to the floor. 

“I’m going to make you forget those fucking names.” Zoro grinds down against him, tearing a strangled moan from them both. “I’m going to make you forget your _own_ fucking name.”

“Zoro—” Sanji gasps. 

“Yeah, just like that,” Zoro murmurs, voice gone husky and low. Slowly, he works his way down Sanji’s body with his lips, tongue, and teeth.

“Please, Zoro, _please,”_ Sanji’s too far gone to give one single fuck about how needy, how goddamn desperate, how fucking _slutty_ he must sound right now. He feels Zoro's answering growl vibrate all the way through his body. It makes his toes _curl._

Zoro finally relieves him of his pants and underwear. Sanji feels his warm breath ghost against his dick and— 

At the first touch of Zoro’s tongue, he goes tumbling headfirst over the edge. 

When he comes back to himself, two things occur to him in quick succession. The first thing Sanji realizes is that sometime after he blinked out of existence with the sheer force of his orgasm, Zoro managed to work two slick fingers inside of him. The second thing he realizes is that he just came _embarrassingly_ fast-- practically untouched, no less-- into Zoro’s _mouth._

A needy little whine comes tripping out of him at the realization. He shifts his hips and grinds down onto Zoro’s fingers, filthy slow, craving the touch even as his body shies away from the sheer _overstimulation_ of it. 

“There you go,” Zoro presses the words low and soft into the skin of Sanji’s bare thigh. “You back with me?”

“ _Fuck you,_ oh my god,” Sanji husks. His voice is rough like sandpaper. 

Zoro laughs against his skin while he gives a wicked curl to his fingers, striking Sanji’s prostate.

Sanji feels the wooden floor of the men’s cabin _crack_ under the heels of his feet when the touch jolts him into an involuntary kick. 

Zoro grunts against his skin. 

_That's just unacceptably hot,_ Sanji thinks. 

“C’mon, I’m ready,” he goads him, raking his hands down the bare skin of Zoro’s back. 

Zoro scissors his fingers, stretching Sanji that much wider. It _burns._ He feels himself trying to squirm down onto him just to get him to go _deeper._

“I’m not small,” Zoro tells him, as if it already isn’t the most obvious thing in the world. The man is _impressively_ endowed. 

“And I’m not a fucking _princess!_ C’mon, _Zor--oh”_ Sanji trails off into another moan as Zoro slides in a third finger. 

He swoops in for a kiss and presses the words fire-hot into Sanji’s open, gasping mouth: “Oh really, ‘Mr. Prince’?” 

_Okay, that’s it._

Before Zoro has time to properly react, Sanji has gotten his legs up and locked around Zoro’s hips. With a careful twist of his spine and jolt of motion, Sanji has their positions flipped _._ He comes out straddling Zoro and promptly begins _ripping the man's pants off_ with frantic hands. 

“Stupid, shitty, Marimo—I’ll do it myself.” 

Zoro’s face is flushed in a way Sanji has never before seen. His mouth is slightly parted, open in a soundless "O" of surprise. His _unforgivably perfect_ lips are kiss-bruised. 

_This might have been a mistake,_ Sanji decides at the sight of him, feeling himself lurch perilously close to orgasm. _His scar alone…_ The ragged line sliced across Zoro’s chest is somehow a vicious turn-on. It hits Sanji low in the gut. 

“Sanji,” Zoro says, just to say it. His voice is as soft as _anything_ could ever be. 

Sanji smiles-- it's a wicked thing. He’s already got the little bottle of lube (where Zoro got it, he has _no clue)_ open behind his back, just out of sight. Never breaking eye-contact, Sanji slides one slick hand down that truly impressive cock and gets a firm grip around the base. 

Zoro slides home in one long, slow push. 

* * *

Sanji is impossibly tight and impossibly wet and impossibly warm around Zoro’s dick. Absurdly, Zoro thinks of a ballerina, frozen mid-pose as he stares up at the picture Sanji makes perched in his lap and speared open on his cock. 

“God, you’re so fucking _pretty,”_ drops out of Zoro’s mouth without conscious input. 

The cook fucking _squirms_ at the praise. 

“Fuck… do you like that, Princess?”

The impact is instantaneous—whether it's due to pet name or the feeling of those first shallow thrusts, Zoro doesn’t know—Sanji’s cock _jerks_ between them.

“Yeah?" Zoro continues. "You’re so fucking pretty— _shit—_ so fucking _tight._ " Zoro bucks up into him once, _hard._

Sanji drops forward limply onto Zoro’s chest, clutching desperately at his shoulders. Like this, their chests are pressed flush together and Zoro can feel Sanji's heartbeat racing against his skin. With his grip tight on Sanji’s hips and his feet flat on the floor, Zoro starts to fuck up into him like he goddamn _means it._

_He seriously fucking means it._

“C’mon, wanna— _hnngh—_ wanna hear you scream,” Zoro demands, striking his prostate over and over, never once stopping.

With that simple command, some invisible dam breaks. 

_"O_ _h fuck,_ yes, Zoro, yes, please, _please_ , Zoro, _please_ , harder, fuck… fuck, harder, _harder!_ " Sanji's voice climbs in volume and pitch with each breathless exclamation until he’s fucking screaming it, over and over again, absolutely filling the cabin with his messy little sounds and his desperate, keening voice. 

“Won’t last long,” Zoro gets out. His orgasm is building like a fucking Tsunami. 

It’s like the admission of that fact does something to Sanji. He’s been rutting against Zoro’s abs mindlessly with each and every thrust, chasing the friction between their bodies, but as soon as Zoro says it-- as soon as he tells him he’s close-- it's _Sanji_ that comes between them.

“ _Zoro,”_ Sanji croaks, half-smothering the sound in the meat of Zoro's shoulder. 

The sound of him makes something tighten in Zoro’s chest.

He manages only one more thrust before he’s coming, stars dancing behind his eyes. 

* * *

They fall asleep tangled in each others arms, right there on the rug, drying cum and all. 

(Nami increases both of their debts by a staggering twenty-five percent after Usopp takes one step into the men’s cabin the next morning and flees _screaming._ “It’s for his _therapy,”_ she claims, even though there’s genuine amusement in her voice.)

Needless to say, the rug is burned and the ashes are scattered into the sea. ("A Viking's funeral," Usopp declares. "It's what the rug deserves.")

This, too, comes out of Zoro and Sanji's allowances.

* * *

As the sun rises over the once war-torn island of Mae, a certain erotic-companion wakes with a staggering hangover to find a letter waiting for them at their door. 

The letter reads as follows: 

_Dearest Eddie,_

_Neither of us were moved to tears, but I am pleased to say that I did scream myself hoarse and traumatize our sniper._

_You have my sincere gratitude for your company, your wit, and your advice last night. If you should ever need anything, don't hesitate to call upon my crew and I._

_Please, take care! And give Lorna-san my regards, too._

_(Zoro is insisting I tell you, and I quote, “to go tell that prick Lee that he can go and stick his small, shriveled dick into an open flame" but I will tell you no such thing, as I am a gentleman.)_

_With love and gratitude,_

_Blackleg Sanji_

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on ye olden [tumblr](https://trixree.tumblr.com/)


End file.
